Shadows loomed, blotting out the sky.
A murderous aura penetrated to the bone.
Under the shadow of the giant tiger, the troop of monkeys looked up, their gazes transfixed by the terrifying specter before shifting to the golden figure ahead, towering like a giant peak that held up the sky.
This was their king.
As long as he was there,
the monkeys would surely come to no harm.
Because of their trust, they knew no fear.
Sun Wukong, true to that trust, had golden lights bursting around him, converging on the iron rod in his hands, layer upon layer, stacking up to four in total.
Below the gaping maw, he seemed as insignificant as an ant, not even comparable to a single tooth, yet he squatted down to gather his strength, swinging the rod that resembled a toothpick made of gold.
The body of an ant, yet with the courage to shake a tree.
Was it recklessness?
Or was there something to rely on?
